


Watson's tea

by Tiofrean



Series: Watson's everything [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rimming, and he loves john, and there's tea scented lube, because sherlock loves tea, bottom!John, for MinMu, john makes perfect tea, tea as lube, top!Sherlock, unapropriate usage of tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John makes perfect tea. It's Sherlock's favorite set - John and tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watson's tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinMu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMu/gifts).



> For MinMu, as a thank you for her amazing prompt that I had to, just had to write. No angst in here, not today. Just smutty smut with tea. See, told ya I would come up with something for this tag :))
> 
> Enjoy!

Sherlock always loved John's tea - the way the doctor did it was absolutely perfect. It was therefore no wonder that when Sherlock smelled the sweet scent of a perfectly steeped cup of earl gray in his close proximity, his senses automatically switched to the one who made it.   
  
The detective was sitting on the couch, one leg propped on the table, the other resting on the floor. He was cataloging the details of the latest case in his mind palace, when the perfection (at least in Sherlock's mind) appeared to his left. The perfection being of course a set consisting of John and freshly made tea.   
  
The good doctor always knew how to soothe Sherlock after a case, knew the perfect recipe to help and bring the mad detective down from his high. It was a thing to behold and cherish, Sherlock pondered, taking the hot cup in his hands and blowing the steam off gently.   
  
John's tea.   
  
His John's tea.  
  
His John and tea...   
  


And that is precisely when Sherlock's mind came to a halt as a vivid picture was created in the center of his brain. He took a seep of the tea, revealing in the hot liquid spreading in his mouth and swallowed it with an audible gulp. He looked to his left and blinked at John, a simple plan forming quickly. He decided he had to act now, while the tea was still hot and fragrant. It was the best like this.   
  
John didn't know what had hit him. One moment he was reading his morning paper, sitting next to one quiet Sherlock Holmes, the next he was being pushed down on the couch, the paper torn from his hands, and thoroughly snogged by the mad detective. When the mad and hungry kisses stopped for a second he blinked up, eyes settling on that familiar, angular face.   
  
Sherlock licked his lips, looking at John as if he was his next meal and grinned. The toothy grin made John's insides tingle – it was always a prelude to something definitely wicked when the detective smiled like that.   
“Hello there” the doctor smiled fondly, running one hand through the mad curls at Sherlock's head. The other man closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. John had to bite his lip not to laugh, Sherlock always despised when people compared him to cats, but that was a very sound comparison in situations like this.   
  
Sherlock opened his eyes and John gasped. There was that little flickering light in his eyes, that little bit of wickedness in his gaze that meant John was in trouble. The detective shifted a fraction, their lower-halves rubbing together, and the doctor could feel the press of Sherlock's slowly filling cock. He arched into the minute movements, brushing his own body against his lover.

 

John was wearing only his pajama bottoms and they did next to nothing to stop the increasing heat of Sherlock's body from seeping into his own skin. The detective lowered his head, bringing his lips to John's neck and licking the sensitive bit of skin that always made John melt. He bucked up, moaning softly, which provoked a small groan from Sherlock.   
  
He started to bite and suck at the tender flesh, tearing a groan from his lover. He could feel John's hands running up his t-shirt clad back, nails digging softly into his shoulder-blades. He moaned, sucking a deep love-bite into John's collarbone. The doctor racked his nails down Sherlock's back, down to his ass, and gripped both his cheeks hard, pulling him forward, grinding their rapidly hardening cocks together. And that's when Sherlock propped himself up on his arms hovering over the other man.   
  
“John... I... Can I do something? Please?” He asked and John frowned. Sherlock usually didn't ask for anything when they were intimate like this. He would just do it, whatever was on his mind, and as John if it was alright.   
“What do you have in mind?” The doctor asked, lifting himself briefly and giving him a quick peck on the lips. Sherlock licked them and shifted his weight to his left hand, the other wandering down John's body.   
  
The doctor frowned harder when Sherlock dove with his hand between John's parted legs, placing his fingers just below his balls, pressing them into John's body a little. He rubbed suggestively at the soft cotton covering his skin, setting his nerves on fire.   
  
The doctor was at loss, Sherlock didn't usually beat around the bush when he wanted to be at this end of the proceedings. He looked up into the detective's eyes, blown with arousal. In the periphery of his vision he could see Sherlock's pink tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips. What was today with Sherlock and licking, anyway?   
  
Oh.   
  
_Oh..._

 

John moaned, the picture painting itself in his mind. He nodded, skin tingling and face getting red. So that's what Sherlock wanted... He brought Sherlock's head down with both hands tangled in his curls and kissed him hungrily, luxuriating in the moan it provoked.   
  
The detective cut the kiss short, mind already on his task, as he started to strip John of his pants. It was a tedious task, especially when they couldn't seem to stop caressing each other, so Sherlock settled to just rip the cotton off him. He shifted down, trying to somehow tug his own pants and t-shirt off, managing it finally. He settled between John's parted legs and admired the view before him for a moment.   
  
The doctor, the love of his life was lying on his back, legs spread apart, cock filled and heavy, resting on his abdomen. Sherlock looked up into John's face and had to give himself a few calming breaths. The sole look, the evident desire and love for him displayed all over John's features... it could make Sherlock come without a single touch right then.   
  
When he calmed down sufficiently, he came back to task at hand and leaned down, kissing the tip of John's manhood tenderly. The doctor gasped, his muscles twitching. Sherlock took him in his hand then, wrapping his long fingers firmly around John's prick and, leaning further down, sucked the tip of it into his mouth, running his tongue over the delicate flesh.   
  
John groaned loudly, hips twitching a little upwards. His hands found Sherlock's head just as the detective lowered himself on his shaft, lips stretching and tongue massaging. He sucked John down in one go, enjoying the taste and the warmth of the heavy length. He bobbed his head a few times, the slick sounds of John's cock moving in and out of those plush lips drove the doctor mad.   
  
Finally the detective pulled off, licked his lips and grinned down at his lover. Without any warning he placed both arms under John's knees and tugged them upward, toward the other man's chest. He leaned forward, bending John even further and kissed him tenderly. The doctor chased his lips when he pulled away, groaning in disappointment. Sherlock shushed him gently, kissing the tip of his nose.   
  
“Hold them like this” he whispered, squeezing the tender backs of John's knees. The doctor took hold of them, feeling Sherlock pull away and sit up. The fire in the detective's view told John everything he needed to know.   
  
Sherlock loved to see him like this, exposed and open, all for him and him only.   
  
The detective leaned down, one hand squeezing John's left buttock, sending a wave of hot flames down his spine. Sherlock brought him mouth to the place where his thigh met his ass and kissed him there, first on one side, then the other. John moaned, muscles tensing slightly. The position was going to cost him a few stretched muscles come tomorrow, but he couldn't give a damn when Sherlock started to lick and nip his sensitive skin, alternating between both sides of his ass.   
  
He could feel Sherlock pulling back for a moment, before his clever tongue was at his entrance, first touching it carefully, making the doctor even more sensitive, then flicking over the puckered flesh with tiny, cat-like licks.   
  
John's breath escaped him in a long hiss, his legs twitching. He could feel every puff of breath, every hair of Sherlock's morning stubble, every minute movement of his tongue.   
“Oh god...” he moaned, arms trembling, when Sherlock started to lap at his opening, the hot slick muscle slowly applying pressure to open the doctor up.   
  
The detective hummed when he felt John's hole twitch, muscles reacting beautifully. He loved to see John like this, all splayed out before him, loving and trusting, even with the most intimate parts of him. It always drove the detective mad.   
  
Sherlock moaned and licked harder, finally stiffening his tongue and pushing it into John, feeling him tremble. The doctor moaned something that was probably intended to be Sherlock's name, but the sense of it was lost in pleasure. He could feel the hot slickness entering him, pushing into, then pulling back, and again in. Sherlock started to fuck him with his tongue and John was already loosening, the tight ring of muscles becoming relaxed, welcoming the invasion.   
  
Sherlock went on with his task, effectively rendering John to a moaning puddle of arousal. When he deemed him sufficiently prepared for further proceedings, he pulled back, tearing a whimper from John's throat. He hated the cold air on his skin, he wanted back all of Sherlock's heat. The detective shifted around, and John's hazy mind supplied that he was looking for the bottle of lube they stashed between the sofa-cushions. Before the doctor managed to blink his eyes open and focus on the lack of Sherlock in his personal space, the detective was back, mischievous spark in his eyes. He lowered his head down again and John's brain went off-line.   
  
Sherlock pressed his closed lips to John's opening and slowly pried them apart, a long trickle of hot fluid flowing out of them and into John's body. The doctor cried out at the sensation, wriggling in place, legs shifting and hips bucking to the point, where Sherlock had to hold him steady.   
  
When he settled down again, the detective leaned to his side again, taking a sip of his morning tea. It wasn't hot anymore, but sufficiently warm that it would create an illusion of heat in John's sensitive passage. He brought his lips back, fastened them around the loosened opening and let the tea flow into John's body again.   
  
John whimpered, clearly out of his mind, his knuckles white, finger digging into the soft flesh of his thighs where he still held himself open for his mad lover. Sherlock watched mesmerized as John's hole twitched a little, a few drops of the amber liquid spilling out and trickling down the crack between John's ass cheeks. He leaned forward and licked it up, provoking a groan from the other man.   
  
Without any further ado, Sherlock dove to John's hole again, tongue roughly pushing in, tasting John and tea. His favorite set.   
“God.... Sherlock... What are you... oh Jesus” the doctor moaned out, feeling the tongue trying to push even further, stretching him more. He groaned when Sherlock pulled back a little, bringing his hands closer to John's entrance and pushing his fingers carefully in.   
  
“Mmmm.... John” he purred against John's thigh. “You taste absolutely delicious” and with that he moved his fingers apart, stretching John's muscles further. Now, when he could feel the stretch, the doctor knew Sherlock had both of his pointer fingers inside him, opening him up with both of his hands. He could feel Sherlock's breath, huffing rapidly over his wet hole, and the sole picture of Sherlock, staring at him with burning eyes, exposed like that.... he could feel the pleasure spiking in his blood, his neglected cock twitching impatiently.   
  
Sherlock smiled and brought his mouth back to his ass, lips closing over the rim. He sucked and nibbled, making John cry out. He shifted one of his hands and, keeping John open and relaxed with the other, pressed two of his long fingers into him, aiming for the prostate. He found it on the third thrust, making the good doctor jump and shout, his eyes squeezed shut and cock leaking.   
  
Sherlock continued the slow assault, the taste of tea and his beloved John heavy on his tongue, making him dizzy and hot. He thrust his hips forward, grinding his own erection into the couch, moaning at the sensation it caused. The moan in turn traveled all the way through his vocal tract and vibrated into John's body, making him moan and groan.   
  
“Jesus, Sherlock... please... pleasepleaseplease” he begged at last, making the detective grin widely. He unfastened himself from John's flesh, shifting one hand to hold John's ass in place, while he took a bottle of lube from between the cushions. The tea was a wonderful idea, and Sherlock loved its taste, mixed with that intoxicating scent of his John, but it wouldn't be enough for this.   
  
He flipped the cup open with his thumb and poured a generous amount of lube on his cock. That's when John blinked his eyes open, straining his neck to see Sherlock.   
“Really?” He asked breathlessly when the sweet smell of tea permeated the air around him. Sherlock grinned even wider, showing John the bottle of a brand new lube he bought about a week ago.   
  
John would have giggled if his ass hadn't been wide open and about a feet in the air.   
  
_Tea flavor._ Of course.  
  
Sherlock tossed the bottle away, leaning over John and catching his lips in a hungry and messy kiss. He ran his hand a few times over his shaft, enjoying the long-needed friction, feeling marvelous with the added lubricant. When he could stand the slow burning sensation no more, he propped himself up on one hand and brought the tip of his length to John's hole. Biting his lip, Sherlock pushed in, a fraction of an inch a time, until he was completely sheathed inside. He looked up at John's sweet face and gasped.   
  
The doctor had his eyes screwed shut, mouth slack. His breath was a string of rapid pants and his whole body was shivering uncontrollably. He couldn't believe how different it would feel with his ass full of tea and Sherlock, how hot, how tight... And then Sherlock moved and his world went fuzzy at the edges.   
  
Each of Sherlock's careful thrusts brushed over his prostate, making his insides clench and his breath stutter. Every time his ass clenched around Sherlock's length a little bit of the tea still present inside would flow out, wetting not only his ass but also Sherlock's balls. The detective moaned at this, the slow trickle of tea flowing down his sack made his hips buck and drive into his lover faster.   
  
“John” he moaned, wrapping his hand around John's neglected cock, just holding it. “John open your eyes” he commanded, squeezing the hard length resting in his palms. The doctor groaned and whimpered, slowly opening his eyes, blinking furiously to regain the focus. When his gaze settled on Sherlock he saw just how wrung out the detective was. His eyes were half open, lips red from biting at them, cheeks flushed.   
  
Sherlock whimpered when John's gaze locked with his own. He kicked up the rhythm of his hips, driving into the doctor at a fast pace, effectively bringing them both to the edge.   
“Come on, John... come now” he chocked out, voice raspy.   
“Sher...”  
“Keep your eyes... open... and come... for me....” he managed between pants, finally moving his hand on John's cock. The doctor cried out so loud that in their calm and quiet living room it was almost a scream. He shook and trembled as he came, cock jumping in Sherlock's hand and muscles clamping down on his length.   
  
Sherlock's vision went white, his blood rearing in his ears. He knew he moaned John's name like a mantra, but he wasn't really aware of it. When his body gave in and he collapsed on top of John, narrowly avoiding crushing him with his legs to his chest (bless John, he managed to lower them), he buried his face in the crook of John's neck, still moaning softly, gasping for air. John could feel their bodies twitching with the aftermath. He shifted a little, bringing his arms around the exhausted man currently splayed on top of him and winced as the movement provoked the remaining tea to leak out of his body. He ignored it, squeezing Sherlock tightly to him.  
  
“That was...” he started, but words failed him. Sherlock huffed out a breath of a laugh.   
“Thank you” he whispered into John's shoulder. The doctor frowned, puzzled.   
“Whatever for?”  
“For bringing me tea just the way I love it” the detective murmured back.   
  
_Just the way I love it. With you._


End file.
